


Romance de la luna, luna

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: Mountains of the Moon [9]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romance in the world of dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance de la luna, luna

The title comes from a poem by Federico Garcia Lorca, about a Gypsy boy, entranced by the moon. This is pure dream fiction, and the dream could have happened at any time.

 

El jinete se acercaba  
tocando el tambor del llano.

Closer comes the horseman,  
drumming on the plain.

(Federico Garcia Lorca, Romance de la luna, luna.)

*****************************************

The Gypsy wagons crossed the mountains, crossed the border into night, from day. The sun set behind the mountains, and the moon rose white, creamy white, majestic and impenetrable white.

The moon rose over the land of night. The Gypsy wagons crossed the mountains, crossed the border into night. After the terrible peaks of the mountains, the rolling hills of night were gentle, and the horses lifted their heads and breathed the night air. The Gypsies looked up at the moon and smiled.

Far off in the distance they could see a white tower. The moon rose over the tower and its tears fell upon the white walls. The tower was part of a casa, a casa with white walls, white walls with green ivy, green ivy leaves rustling in the night wind, night wind carrying the scent of white camellias from the garden of the casa.

The Gypsies had been travelling for many days, and were tired past all bearing. Before they had crossed the border into night, they had been fleeing pursuit, which had drawn too close. Now they hoped for a short time of peace.

They drew the wagons together and built fires. The women cooked dinner and they gathered around the fires to eat. Then they heard hoofbeats, horses drawing near.

The men stood and drew their knives, Starsky among them, but he held back behind the others, as his heart was not in fighting.

The horses drew nearer. There were several strong horses, ridden by strong men. One man, the man in front, was tall. His hair was caressed by the silver of the moon and the stars. He stopped, and dismounted.

'Buenas tardes,' he said, though it was perhaps late enough to be noches. 'Senoras y senores. Does anyone here speak Spanish?'

A number of them did, but all stood astonished at the politeness of his words, and so none came forward, save for Starsky, who was drawn to this man as the moth was to the flame.

'I speak Spanish,' answered Starsky, though his Spanish was not fluent. A gasp of surprise rose among the Gypsies, for these days, Starsky rarely spoke in any language. At a sign from his grandmother, the old Gypsy who truly ruled the clan, the others drew back. Starsky and the Silver Man stood in the centre of the wagons and spoke together.

Starsky bowed to the Silver Man, for he rode a noble horse, and wore silk and fine wool and boots of Spanish leather. These things meant little to Starsky, save that they matched the beauty of the man's face and body and so were appropriate. But one must be polite to the rich, lest they trample one under the hooves of their noble horses.

'Senor,' said Starsky. 'What do you wish to know?'

'How are you faring? Do you wish to stay long?' Such questions. In such a voice. So warm a voice, not raised in anger, not demanding their departure.

'We were hoping to stay a few days. We have had a long journey and the little ones are tired.' Starsky's voice broke a little on the words 'the little ones'. The Silver Man looked, but said nothing.

'Stay as long as you need to,' he said at last. 'If anyone gives you trouble, come to me.' The man held out his hand. Starsky touched his own work-worn hand to it and felt a shiver all down his spine, a shiver such as he had never felt.

The Silver Man turned, and mounted his horse, and rode away.

****************************************

'I still say that we should leave this place soon. I do not trust that man. He is too pale, as pale as the moon. I have heard legends, that he lures young men to his casa, and they are never seen again.'

'My son, I say we should stay. My grandson has scarcely spoken since his wife died in childbirth, along with their child. Now, he breathes as if he wishes to live.'

'It might be dangerous, Mother.'

'Life is dangerous.'

It was midnight, and the moon rode high in the west, floating over the white walls of the casa, floating over the green ivy. The scent of white camellias floated over the hills, and drew Starsky with their deep promise of mysteries solved.

He did not understand the smile of the man of silver. He did not understand the thrill of his touch. The deep, mysterious scent of white camellias drew Starsky from his wagon to walk the scented hills at midnight toward the white walls of the casa.

Starsky walked up to the white walls of the casa on silent Gypsy feet. He stopped just before a low point in the white walls, and prepared to climb.

'Are you going to climb my walls, and rob my casa? Have you heard the legends of the hidden silver and gold?'

Starsky looked up. The man of silver waited on the balustrade, his hair caressed by the moonlight.

'No. I was about to climb your walls, and hunt down the scent of camellias, for it has been troubling me all evening.'

'It is not the scent of the camellias that is troubling you, but the touch of my hand. Wait. I will come down to you.'

The Silver Man leapt down from the white walls of his casa, as a panther leaps from the tree branch on which he has been awaiting his prey. Starsky watched, and his heart leapt in his chest.

The Silver Man stalked toward Starsky, moving easily, as a panther through the jungle in search of his prey. Starsky caught his breath and backed up slowly, not fearfully, but slowly, until his back touched the tree behind him.

The branches of the tree bent down and surrounded them with its green leaves. Green leaves, green as the ivy which grew over the white walls of the casa.

The man of silver came nearer. Starsky could hear his breathing. Starsky could feel the warmth of his body. Starsky could feel the touch of his hand, the touch that had so thrilled him back at the Gypsy camp.

The Silver Man touched him and Starsky stopped breathing.

'You are not breathing,' said the man of silver.

'I cannot breathe, for you have stolen my breath, as you have stolen my heart,' said Starsky.

'If I have stolen your breath, then I will give you mine,' said the Silver Man, and he kissed Starsky's lips.

'If I have stolen your heart, then I will give you mine,' he said, and kissed Starsky again.

'There is something else that you have stolen,' said Starsky, and he took the hand of the Silver Man and pressed it to his groin.

'Then I will give you mine.'

They lay on a bed of leaves, under the tree, in the moonlight. They were naked and their bodies were joined so that one could not be distinguished from the other. They moved like the sea, under the white kiss of the moon. They moved like the grass under the warm caress of the wind.

Starsky cried out in longing, and his lover's voice answered him.

'Yes. There. Just there. We can join our bodies there and be as one. There is no need to long for that in vain. Watch. Watch me join our bodies and make us one.'

Starsky watched, amazed that such a thing could be. The moon watched, the only witness to their joy. The wind listened, the only hearer of their sighs.

It was almost daybreak, and Starsky stirred, reluctantly. The moon had almost set. The wind was a soft breeze, stirring the leaves of their sheltering tree, carrying the soft scent of white camellias to join with the warm scent of his lover's body.

Starsky stirred, reluctantly.

'It is morning, nearly morning,' he whispered. 'I must leave you, for now. They will be wondering where I have gone to, but I can return when the moon rises over the casa again.'

'Yes,' said his lover. 'You must come to me when the moon rises over the casa, for I have stolen your breath, and I have stolen your heart, and neither of us can find peace, except in the other.'

'Amigo,' said Starsky. 'I was wrong. You have not stolen anything. for I have given all of myself to you, freely.'

The moon had set, and the sun was rising in the west, when Starsky returned to the Gypsy camp.

His father and grandmother were waiting for him in their wagon.

'Where have you been?' they asked him.

'Walking on the moon,' he replied.

*** The End ***


End file.
